For the Webcam
by MegElemental
Summary: Missing moment from the comics. 'You took the title from me; now I'm going to take it from you, Golden boy.' Wary T, slight Jason/Dick


**Ever so slight Jason/Dick. If you don't like slash, don't read.**

**Takes place in the midst of a Batman and Robin: Reborn comic. Cannot for the life of me remember which one.**

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He'd been distracted by the oldest trick in the book and he could kick himself for falling for it. Locked in combat with Red Hood, he never should have looked away, never taken his eyes off Jason's hands…

'Robin!'

For someone who proclaimed emotions were for fools, Damian had looked pretty cut up about the girl he'd been unable to save. A weakness she'd cleverly played him for, leaving him open and vulnerable.

But he should have focussed on his own fight. Perhaps he still lived under the illusion that Jason wouldn't hurt him because they were _family_. A lot of good that idea had done Tim, and Damian, when Jason had been on the rampage, claiming the title of Batman as his own. He'd almost killed them both- or tried too, at any rate.

That was his problem, he realised. He was too soft, too anxious to see the good in others.

'It's… it's nothing,' Damian had gasped, the pain in his voice plainly apparent. But Dick had been so worried he'd almost missed Jason's next words.

'I know you have Kevlar shielding and the symbol's carbon plated…'

The red gun exploded in his chest and he fell, fell, fell…

'But that _had _to hurt.'

Dick fell back into blackness.

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He woke to a burning pain in his chest, constricting his lungs and making it a trial to breathe. He gasped like a fish out of water, trying to replenish his oxygen supply.

'Ahh, the big bird awakes,' said a wry voice from behind him, cutting through the misty haze of pain. Dick blinked furiously, trying to clear the blurriness. His body was still heavy from unconsciousness, so it wasn't _him _lifting his arms and pulling off the batsuit…

'Wha…' he slurred, his face feeling numb still, immoveable. A deep chuckle met his ears.

'Well, you can't greet your public dressed like _this, _Dickie. We all know you like taking your clothes _off._'

Dick tried to speak but a dull throbbing was still echoing round his cranium, making his head feel like it was wrapped in cotton wool. His back, however, seemed to be extra sensitive, and as Jason pulled the heavy, warm Kevlar away from Dick's skin cold air rushed in to take its place. He couldn't help shivering slightly.

'Cold, Golden boy?'

Dick could hear the smirk in Jason's voice and longed to punch him, but his limbs still felt heavy and lifeless. He struggled to open his mouth for a cutting, witty retort… and then gasped as a cold, callused finger slid a track from the base of his neck to the end of his spine, dipping dangerously low before the pressure vanished.

'Really, Dickie; if I'm going to undress you, I might as well make it _fun_. And _everyone_ seems to want a piece of you.'

Dick ignored him, still trying to think clearly through the haze of pain. Vaguely he felt Jason remove the suit entirely, leaving him only in underwear, cold sweat and blood. He shivered, but with the cold came a brief bout of lucidity and he panicked.

'D-Damian?' he managed to gasp out, twisting his head to look for the boy. 'Is he…?'

'Alive. Not well, but then, you can't have everything.' Jason's face suddenly appeared in front of his, filling his vision almost completely. 'Can you?'

Dick said nothing, but simply scowled at his former brother. Jason pushed him down into a chair and Dick fell with a grunt, barely able to stand. His chest hurt so _so _much and he could barely breathe…

'But I saved the best until last,' Jason breathed, grasping the cowl in one hand and pulling it slowly off Dick's head, almost teasingly brushing Dick's lip with a rough callused thumb as he did so. Dick shuddered. The cowl was thrown into a corner, Jason wiping his hands as though he'd touched something dirty.

Jason, hoodless but still masked, grinned as he reached out a gloved hand and slid a finger down Dick's cheek. Dick tried to move away, and strong, harsh fingers grabbed his chin and pulled him back to stare into the blank eyelets of Jason's domino mask.

'What are you doing, Jason?' Dick snarled. 'What is the point in… in _this_?'

'You took my title,' he said simply, 'and I wanted a rematch. And now I've beaten you… I'm taking away your title, too.' He stepped back, made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the computer and webcam set up in front of Dick. 'How can you be Batman if everyone knows who you are?'

'Jason, stop,' Dick said, half angry, half panicked. 'You saw what happened to Gotham when the city lost Batman. It can't happen again.'

'Gotham doesn't _need_ Batman, only vigilantes,' Jason argued, as he slipped behind Dick and began to tie his wrists together. 'The Red Hood can manage without the big bad bat getting in the way.'

'I don't think you know what you're doing,' Dick said. Jason yanked at the rope around his wrists so tightly it burned against his skin and Dick bit his lip in pain.

'I know _exactly _what I'm doing,' he snapped back, one hand curled tightly around Dick's bare shoulder, the other raised threateningly by his cheek. 'I'm not a child, _Dickie_.'

Beside him, Damian groaned in his sleep and both men turned to look at the unconscious boy.

'No. You never got a chance to be a child.'

'Oh, get off your high horse,' Jason said, 'and remember who's got who tied up here.'

Dick tried to surreptitiously try and wriggle his hands, loosen the ties, but was disappointed to discover the ropes were tight and the knots well-crafted, and his motor control still wasn't quite up to scratch.

'Uh uh uh!' Jason said, shaking his head and crouching down in front of Dick, grasping his chin harshly with one rough hand and forcing him to stare into the white ovals of his domino mask. 'No escaping, Dickie. You're losing the bat tonight, you and the kid.'

Jason's eyes were cold and hard and yet full of some broiling emotion Dick couldn't quite place. He stared in silence, painfully aware of the pressure of Jason's fingertips and the cold sensation of blood slipping down from his scalp.

When Jason spoke again, his voice was rough and splintered with the force of the emotion.

'Would he have killed for you?'

Dick just stared, trying to look impassive but pretty sure he was failing.

'If the Joker had killed _you_, would Bruce have killed him?'

'No,' Dick said finally, as his legs began tingling with pins and needles. A good sign; the feeling was starting to return. 'Batman doesn't kill.'

'He would have. He would have… for _you_.' Jason's voice was bitterly smooth and ever-so-heartbreakingly painful. His face was so close that his hot breath hit Dick's cheek, his lips brushing against Dick's as he spoke. 'For the Golden Boy.'

'Red Hood! We have to –'

'I'm coming, Scarlett,' Jason called, tearing his face away from Dick's and standing up, his smile returning. But it was a fake smile. A cover smile. A Joker's grimace.

'Jason…' Dick began, but he was quickly interrupted.

'Save it, Golden Boy.'

Jason paused in the doorway, his figure silhouetted by the dark grey dawn light of Gotham. His mouth parted, as though he were about to say something more, and for a moment the world hung in balance, swaying, tilting…

Then he seemed to think better of it, closed his mouth and left, replacing the Red mask as he went. The door slammed shut and Dick took a deep, deep breath.

He was still alive.

But so very, _very _confused and sad and…

Damian stirred, and muttered something under his breath.

'Robin? Are you conscious?' Dick asked, relieved at the sight of his young partner coming back around. He wasn't worried overly about the webcam. He'd gotten out of tougher scrapes than this before.

But Jason's eyes were going to haunt him for a while.

-FINI-


End file.
